The Afterparty
Page 22
Let’s just say I’m tempted, but there are things that worry me. For instance, the whole point of this scheme, from where I sit, would be to pay for me to finish my own novel, and yet I don’t know what effect the deception would have on my chances of selling it. The story of our ruse would be bound to gather some attention, but would readers and publishers ever forgive me? For this reason, I confess, I am also rather worried about who you might turn out to be. Anonymity is fine, I think, if that’s what you’re into. But if I am about to get into bed with a convicted child molester then I, like most people, would like to know about it. And I’m only a freelancer, remember, so the Guardian can drop me like a hot falafel if they need to. Is there anything you can say to put my mind at ease on this?
The other thing – and I hope this doesn’t sound too mercenary – is that the size of my cut is important. Val seems to think that the best case scenario right now would be if Cape and Bloomsbury bid the price up to around £70,000 for a one-book deal. Minus her commission that would leave £59,500. So if I got involved, taking that figure as a guide, how would you feel about a split that gave you the £50,000 and me the £9,500? Payment usually comes in four equal instalments – on signing contracts, delivering MS, first publication, and paperback release – but because of the continuing risks to me, I would need to take my share up front in one go. I would then pass on all future payments to you in their entirety. The 500:95 split, I suggest, should stay the same no matter what size of advance Val can secure, as long as I am guaranteed a minimum of £8,000 (in multiple instalments if necessary) which should be enough to subsidise a final decisive surge towards the conclusion of my own book. For that, I would be prepared to take a few risks.
I seem to be talking myself into this. Let me know what you think.
All the best, and have a good New Year,
Leo
* * *
From:williammendez75@gmail.com
To:leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: Re: Hello
Date: Friday, 1 January 2010 13:56:10
Dear Leo,
Happy New Year to you too! And triple thanks: for writing, for your kind words, and for thinking so carefully about my proposal. I know what a huge favour I am asking, and I understand how risky it must seem.
Unfortunately, I can’t tell you anything more about who I am, but I do doubt that the Guardian would consider me toxic company, so you’re probably safe there. (And I can promise, at the very least, that I am not a child molester, convicted or otherwise!) Financially, however, everything you suggest sounds fine. So if you are prepared to take a gamble, and Val can make the deal, then I would be delighted to have your help. I won’t try to talk you into it, because I want you to feel free to decide. My only request is that you tell *nobody* about our plans, even if you choose not to go ahead with them. Otherwise we could soon find ourselves in a situation that is impossible to control.
One other thing, that I scarcely dare ask, is what else you think of my book? No one besides you, Val and a handful of publishers has read it yet, so I have been starved of feedback. Do you find the overlapping scenes work well, for instance? I wonder sometimes if it seems a bit laboured. Did it get in the way of the paramedic stuff? And is the whole book subtly misogynistic? All the major women seem to be harridans or strumpets. I worry about that too. And the style? Good? Bad? Indifferent? Mixed? I put a lot of work into it, I don’t mind admitting, but then often I look back at a paragraph that took half a day to write and simply *hate* it. And then there’s this Harvey Green business. You’ve probably noticed some parallels between the book and that case from a few years ago. (Val certainly never stops going on about them.) Do you think it’s too much? Or in bad taste? Does it seem to you as if I am trying to explain what I think really happened with Marsh and Green and the rest of it? Would you care if I was? Sorry to pester you, but I never get to talk about this stuff with anyone.
Anyway, just let me know what you want to do about our proposal, and don’t worry too much about my insecurities.
Yours,
William
PS I confess I just Googled you, and read your recent piece for the Observer, reviewing the book about penises. Sounds hilarious! I’m going straight out to buy a copy.
* * *
From:leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
To:williammendez75@gmail.com
Cc:valerie.morrell@nortonmorrell.co.uk
Subject: Re: Hello
Date: Thursday, 7 January 2010 10:00:54
Hi William,
In life, you only regret the things you don’t do, right?
So yes, we have a deal. I’ll meet the Cape and Bloomsbury people, unmask myself as the real William Mendez (explaining my reclusiveness as a mixture of shyness and slyness), and submit to whatever they can think up. I’m quite looking forward to it actually. Nor is it burdensome to add that I love the book – honestly. I think the overlaps work well, and it doesn’t seem misogynistic to me. Male, but not misogynistic. The Harvey Green/Hugo Marks stuff is obvious, yes, but not in a bad way. There are so many other clear references to real celebrities and situations that I just took it all in as part of the fiction.
Regarding our pact, there is one small issue I should quickly mention. I know you want me to keep completely quiet about your involvement, but I can’t lie to my wife Sarah about it. Partly for the good of our relationship, and my sanity, but mostly because I really can’t: she knows all about the book I’ve been working on, and that Publicity***** isn’t it. If possible, we should also put in a dedication to her. This is something I’d always promised to do with my first novel – repeatedly and in front of people – so it might look rather odd if I didn’t. But if you’re OK with that, William, well… then I’m ready when you are.
All the best,
Leo
* * *
From:williammendez75@gmail.com
To:leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: Re: Hello
Date: Thursday, 7 January 2010 15:14:44
That’s great news, Leo! I’m fine for you to tell your wife (and only your wife), and would be honoured to have her name on the book. I’m really relieved, too, that you don’t think the real-life comparisons are overdone. As a journalist, you must often have to think about the legal implications of your work, I suppose?
Anyway, utterly thrilled to have you on board. You won’t regret this!
William
* * *
From:williammendez75@gmail.com
To:valerie.morrell@nortonmorrell.co.uk
Cc:leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: All systems go!!!!
Date: Thursday, 7 January 2010 15:19:21
Hi Val
Just to let you know, Leo and I have been in contact and he has agreed to go ahead with our plan. Great news, I’m sure you will agree.
So… over to you two!
W
* * *
From: valerie.morrell@nortonmorrell.co.uk
To: williammendez75@gmail.com
Cc: leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: Re: All systems go!!!!
Date: Friday, 8 January 2010 14:08:15
Splendid news, chaps! I’ve been in touch with Bloomsbury and Cape, both of whom are prepared to give this one last try.
Leo, are there any dates over the next fortnight you absolutely could not do?
William, I’ll let you imagine my reaction when ‘Rebekah Wade’ actually did turn up. Touché.
Best,
Vx
* * *
From:leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
To:williammendez75@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Hello
Date: Monday, 11 January 2010 15:07:30
Thanks William – glad to be on the team! And yes, I think about the real-world consequences of my articles almost constantly. Most things are read by lawyers before publication, but it would still be seriously ungood if I let something through that got us sued. To me, however, Publicity***** looks fine.
Publishers are prob just being cautious.
Best
L
* * *
From:williammendez75@gmail.com
To:leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: Re: Hello
Date: Thursday, 14 January 2010 02:04:49
You’re so right! I’ve been getting no end of grief about the legal stuff from Val, who says this book might cause us problems from the police or the Green/Marsh families. But when I emailed her a detailed rebuttal, with quotes, explaining my case, she didn’t even reply! (Tiring of me, doubtless, when there no longer seemed to be a deal in prospect.) But that’s agents, I suppose…
W
* * *
From:williammendez75@gmail.com
To:valerie.morrell@nortonmorrell.co.uk
Subject: Leo
Date: Thursday, 14 January 2010 03:14:34
Hi Val,
I just want to say thank you for setting up this arrangement with Leo. He seems really nice (if a little money-oriented), and I feel pleased now, actually, that we are doing things this way. I am aware that you have risked a lot to make it happen too, so as soon as Leo ‘abandons’ you for another agent, I promise not to email you any more, and to delete all your past messages so that nobody can link you to the scheme. (Your cash will have to be sent by post, I’m afraid, but I’ll make sure it gets there safely.)
Before we wind things up, I want to ask you one last favour. Obviously it’s great that Leo writes for the Guardian, but he is hardly a household name (I think he has about 50 Twitter followers), and with literary debuts at the moment… well, no one gives a shit, do they? So I think it’s going to be really important to come up with some innovative (read ‘inexpensive’) ways to publicise the book. One idea I have is that we might launch the first edition with various competitions, offering inclusion in the paperback for the winners, à la Fay Weldon.
One prize would be for readers. We could encourage them to send in a brief outline (up to 200w?) of a character who might appear at the Cuzco party. Leo would then choose the best one and write it in somewhere, giving the character the winner’s name.
There could also be a reviewing competition – encourage readers to visit the book’s page on Amazon or waterstones.com, or wherever, and post their reviews, then two good ones – positive or negative (depending on what we get) – would be quoted on the jacket of the paperback. Obviously we may have to contact reviewers directly if we can’t get permission from the websites their remarks appear on.
Finally, anyone, whether they have read the book or not, should be allowed to get their name and a message in print by simply tweeting it, along with an appropriate hashtag (#afterpartybook perhaps?). The complete list of tweeters and their messages (where legal) would then be printed as an appendix in the back of the paperback. Seems a good shot at generating awareness. Worst Case Scenario 1: we have to print a lot of tweets because it was an online sensation. Worst Case Scenario 2: we print an embarrassingly small list. Oh well.
A central website (facebook.com/afterpartybook and www.leobenedictus.com seem to be free) would be useful to coordinate all this. And if Leo’s new agent can sell any foreign rights, the same competitions could easily be adapted for those territories. If people think it’s a gimmick, that’s fine. The book is all about the things people do for fame/anonymity, and the gap between their private and public selves.
So, could you raise all this with Leo when you see him? I think it should be done face to face, and I don’t want to risk offending him by implying he’s not famous enough. But I do stress that a scheme like this will be *essential* if we are going to generate interest in the book, so we do need him to be on board. Just say I’d been discussing these ideas for ages, and encourage him to talk them up when he meets the publishers. Would that be OK?
Yours,
William
* * *
From:williammendez75@gmail.com
To:valerie.morrell@nortonmorrell.co.uk
Cc: leobenedictus@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: Next instalment
Date: Thursday, 14 January 2010 04:01:44
Chapter 10 – Crisis
Hi guys. Here’s the next chapter. (So you can see what you’ve been writing, Leo!) They’re getting short and fast now, so I should be able to get the last ones to you soon.
And Val, do let me know about these meetings as soon as you have anything concrete. I’m on tenterhooks over here!
W
Saturday, April 2 2005
07:28
‘HONESTLY, RENÉE. IT’S no big deal.’
Her face flattened with disgust.
‘No, seriously.’ Hugo insisted. His eyebrow was flickering again. ‘Me and Mike went up on to the roof and Calvin was leaning over the edge. I was on the stairs,’ flick, flick, ‘and Mike walked up to him and tried to grab hold of him, but he fell off. It was an accident, we think, but no one’s to blame. And the police …’
‘Are you high?’
‘What?’
‘What have you had?’
The discomfiting non sequitur. The conversational hand-brake turn. He had seen her use the tactic many times before to ruffle hotel managers, or part lawyers from their poise.
Flick, fli-ick, fli-ick.
‘Just some drinks. Nothing. It’s fine, Renée. The party went well. Warshak’s happy. There’s been an accident, but nobody’s to blame.’
‘Are you serious?’
Mike was watching.
‘That!’ Renée’s finger quivered towards the street encampment. ‘Is not fine! You think Warshak’s going to be happy when he sees that? Or Independence? You’re fucking right they’re gonna be jittery! Their big family movie of the year … a 200-million-dollar marketing budget … and a storm like this? Un-fucking-believable!’
The table gave a startled bounce beneath the flat of her hand. The Guardian spun skittering for refuge beneath a chair.
Mike picked it up.
‘And have you seen the late editions?’ Renée’s voice breached a new octave of recrimination.
Hugo looked at them.
‘The Pope of Popes,’ said the Times, which also offered a sixteen-page ‘appreciation’ of the dying man. ‘IN GOD’S HANDS,’ preferred the Sun, superimposing it in red over a picture of the young John-Paul II mid-benediction. A smiling family and a Porsche Cayenne dominated the Daily Mail, restricting ‘POPE SLIPS AWAY’ to half a page. While the Mirror lunged alone for ‘FACIAL ATTRACTION: Michael Douglas’s agonising face op’.
Hugo did not understand.
Renée made an exasperated grasp for the Mirror and flipped through the pages until she reached the ‘3am’ gossip spread.
‘Look!’ she said. ‘They held it back for us. And look!’
There, in full-page cut-out, staggering in collision with a margarita glass, was Mellody. She looked surprised and, one had to say, not fully in control. Not her youngest either.
‘MELLY’S DRUNKEN HUGO BLAST,’ read the fat, black capitals. It was the Mirror’s name for her, though it had not caught on. ‘Whoops!’ the text continued. ‘Astonished guests watched in horror last night as Mrs Hugo Marks, clearly somewhat the worse for wear, climbed on to a table to deliver a shocking snub to her husband at HIS OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY.
‘After calling for silence at the £80,000 bash in exclusive Soho members’ club Cuzco, Mellody delivered a bizarre speech that had some of London’s most expensively pedicured toes curling in their Jimmy Choos. Guests including ELTON JOHN, Mark Wahlberg and Gordon Ramsay could only laugh nervously as first she climbed up on to a table, then tripped over the cocktails of bewildered drinkers, and finally announced that husband Hugo was “31 today”. (It was last week, sweetie.)
‘Then, when the embarrassed crowd tried to drown her out with a chorus of Happy Birthday, she angrily refused to join them, yelling, “I HATE HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Old friend Elton did his best to cover Melly’s outburst with a hasty solo on the piano. But she would not be silenced. ‘‘Poor Hugo was g
azing at her, speechless,” said one startled onlooker. “It seemed as if he wished the ground would swallow him up.’’
‘Fans of the celebrity couple, who left the party separately, will hope to see them patch things up soon. But after last night’s performance, we think their marriage looks about as steady as that table. Watch out!’
Hugo opened his mouth, but did not speak.
‘And now this!’
Renée was shaking.
‘OK, but …’
‘No! This is a disaster, and we need to fix it. Sit down. And you – Mike – sit down. Tell me what happened.’
She picked her notebook up again. There was a shuffle as they took their seats.
‘All right,’ Hugo began.
Immediately he was interrupted by the back door opening.
‘Excuse me, madam?’ asked the black officer, apprehensively. ‘Does someone have a key to the gate at the side? Some of my colleagues need a point of access for their equipment.’
‘Certainly. Take the bunch,’ Renée said, her voice quite changed, plucking three pieces from inside the jangle. ‘Use these two little ones top and bottom, and then the square brass one in the middle.’
‘Thank you madam.’
‘So?’ She closed the door behind him.
A nervous dew crept across Hugo’s body. It brought with it something familiar, an old and unbeloved friend, the icky unease of elevated glucose. Like cheese in the sun.